Love Your Enemies
by PromptsAO
Summary: 'I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you.' Newt has been captured by Mary Lou. Credence is tasked with redeeming Newt from scorcery, will he succeed?
1. Chapter 1

The floor of the church had been spotless, hours and hours of cleaning. Apparently the universe didn't care about his back breaking labour the previous day, because the whole congregation had gathered here now tracking in mud with their winter boots, while his mother preached. It was too early for any of this, the sun had barely risen above the horizon and Credence was still exhausted. Just a few more minutes of sleep, a short nap in one of the church benches anything would do.

''…the moment we've been waiting for!'' His mother spoke with such energy, it did not look like she had also missed last night's sleep.

Under most other circumstances, his mind would have drifted off during her sermons. The subject rarely changed anyway so he did not have to worry about his mother asking difficult questions about it later after the service. A voice in the background, as common as the sounds of the streets of New York at night.

Yes, her normal sermons repeated over and over again like a broken phonograph. It even reassured him, as long as she was talking she was predictable. But today nothing was predictable. The cause of it was kneeling next to the pulpit in the church.

Why was he here? Credence stared at the bound and bleeding man. Why did she bring him in here when he could do so much damage? But the presence of his mother made him bite his tongue and keep quiet. Asking questions was never a good thing with mother around, it could just as easily give you an answer as a whipping.

The man did not move while mother continued talking to the congregation, quiet for once, his eyes did not meet anyone's in the church. Instead he stared down at the ground before him like he expected it to reveal a hidden escape route any minute now.

Although his mother had imprinted on him not to stare at a wizard as they could possess your body if you did, he was unable to look away from the bound man. He was dressed quite extraordinarily, even for a foreigner. A remarkable blue coat and a grey and yellow scarf. It was no wonder that his mother had noticed the mans arrival in New York, the only way to look less inconspicuous was to brand "WIZARD" on his forehead. Credence shuddered, he was no stranger to Mary Lou's peculiarities.

But the biggest difference was not what the bound man was wearing but his change in attitude. He did not look like the confident wizard of last night, he was but a shadow now. Like the leaflets they printed, the last of them always were made with just a bit too little ink to be properly legible. Credence could not get a proper view of the wizard's face standing in the back of the church behind the congregation but he could see him gritting his teeth and pulling his shoulders up.

A wizard, one of the magical world that had almost destroyed the world in their haughtiness. A mere fraction of those that sought to destroy them but he was here. It made Credence stomach turn to imagine what the wizard could have done if he had not been captured so soon.

''…the first Salem trials are our guidelines! We cannot make the same mistake our ancestors made for so long. There is only one punishment sufficient enough to make amends!'' Mary Lou proclaimed, if only looks could kill the wizard would have been turned into a smouldering pile of ash. Something he would turn into very soon anyhow. Make him disappear from New York and the rest of this world. May the rest of the wizarding vermin follow soon afterwards.

Credence had to hold back a yawn when his mother continued her story about the first Salem trials. Stories he had been told since the day he had been adopted by Mary Lou. He could remember them by heart by now. His sister Chastity was more like his mother, able to preach for hours and hours without losing the interest of the crowd. Credence did not have the same gift, when speaking before a crowd he would start to stammer within moments. It was already hard enough to convince the New Yorkers that wizards and witches were still among them, blabbering did not make his story any more trustworthy.

''…to burn on the pyre…'' The congregation clapped, hooting and hollering at the captured man. Credence feared for the church for a moment, it was still made out of wood and an angry mob did not need much encouragement to use it as fire wood. ''… after he has redeemed himself!'' Credence chocked on his own spit, coughing and gasping for air. He could not believe his own ears and apparently neither could the congregation.

''This wizard has done many evil deeds throughout his life and he will be punished for these wrongdoings. He needs to see the error of his ways and redeem himself!'' Mary Lou paused for a moment, gauging the reaction of the crowd. ''He will suffer for every misdeed he has committed against humanity. Every stillborn baby, every corrupted child, every diseased adult! No deed goes unpunished!''

Credence had always placed his trust in his mother. She might be harsh on occasion but just. But now, it sounded outrageous and an impossible task to accomplice. How could she make the wizard pay for all his crimes and at the same time prevent him from escaping before the pyre? Did she not always claim that wizards had to be exterminated on sight before they could possess somebody?

He glanced at the wizard, still unmoving with his gaze still fixed at a spot on the floor in silence. Yesterday he had been much more talkative. His mother had always known that Credence was the ideal bait. There was something dark in Credence, something that pulled wizards towards him like moths to light. Credence had been scared, he knew what wizards could do and did not want to this. But according to Mary Lou it was the only way he could redeem himself, he needed to cleanse himself of this darkness that was pulling on him. And to do this, he needed to lure the wizard into the set trap in the church.

''Our children!'' Mary Lou shrieked, startling Credence and pulling him away from his thoughts. ''Our children are at risk of becoming their prey! Protect the children and teach them right from wrong!'' A tear rolled down her cheek, a trick to keep the audience captivated. ''My son! Credence!'' Mary Lou stretched out her right arm and finger, pointing at Credence standing at the back of the church. The whole congregation turned around to stare at him. It unnerved Credence, she had purposely never put any attention on him during rallies instead focusing on Chastity who had the same talent for playing the crowd as she did.

''My son Credence was almost taken by this monster last night!'' Mary Lou spat on the man kneeling beside her, who shrank in response. The crowd cheered, hungry for the wizard's blood. ''He shall be the one who will lead the wizard to the light!''

Credence eyes almost popped out of their sockets. A wizard, too dangerous to roam the streets freely, guilty of probably almost a hundred murders and he was going to redeem that guy? His mother who was so convinced that at any moment he could turn to the dark side wanted him to do so? How on earth was he going to do such a thing. Credence wanted to protest but he didn't dare to do so. Not while the whole congregation was looking at him in hope. Not that he would protest later in private, whatever his mother wanted she got.

And with those words, Mary Lou concluded the sermon. Chastity and Modesty swooped in with leaflets, handing them out to every churchgoer present. There were more people eagerly accepting the leaflets today than ever before, today they had been convinced by Mary Lou that they had been fighting for a worthy cause. Credence hadn't moved from his spot in the back, frozen in place. In fear perhaps? Or in impotence?

Did she hate him? Had he truly messed up so badly that she had given up on him? Would he burn on the pyre with the wizard? Had his dark side taken over? She must have seen something in him but he had no inkling on whether it was a good or a bad thing. His nails dug into the wood of the church bench before him. What was he supposed to do now?

Back to the cellar, a voice in his mind provided him with the answer. He needed time to think and he could not do that with a wizard in the church. His mother and sisters had joined the children in the common room, handing out food and leaflets. The congregation had left already, leaving him alone with the doomed man.

He remembered the bedtime stories his mother used to tell him. Wicked witches that stole babies from their cribs, only to leave changelings in their place. Wizards that hunted down young maidens, dragging them out of their homes in the middle of the night. And all of the sudden, his rage was back rushing over him like a flood. He might still be able to redeem himself in the eyes of his mother. As long as he proved himself.

With large steps it only took a matter of moments before he was standing in next to the pulpit in front of the man. The wizard lifted his head for a moment and looked him in the eye, was that hope in his eyes? The eye contact did not last long, a moment later Credence's foot had planted itself in his stomach. The man could not protect himself with his bound hands so he curled up in himself just like a pillbug did when threatened. There was no difference between them, both profited of every weakness in humans. And there was only one way to get rid of them, stomp them out of existence.

The mud that stained the church floor started to mix with blood with Credence was too blind to see it. He had failed his mother and in turn she had abandoned him with this monster. His rage took over control. It was only when he heard the sickening crunch of broken ribs that he stopped.

Credence was panting, the whole ordeal was taking its toll on him. The man was still breathing although labored, his mother had always told him that wizards could heal themselves. What could kill a man would only result in minor injuries to a wizard. That was the reason why they could fly on broomsticks, if they fell it would be akin to a scraped knee. Credence was not going to be fooled by him, pretending to be injured.

''The first step of redemption is to ask forgiveness'' He said, trying to control his voice. The wizard mumbled something unintelligible after a few moments. If only Mary Lou had been around to witness this, she would be disappointed. Both in the wizard as in Credence. He felt desperate, if he was unable to make the wizard even go through the first steps of redemption how was he ever going to redeem himself to his mother? He needed to get this right, if he failed now he would never achieve success.

The next kick was aimed at his kidneys. ''Forgiveness is not given by asking, you must beg for it!'' His hand wrapped in the blonde curls, tightly gripping the strands and pulling the wizard up to his knees. His nose was bleeding, blood trickling down his chin and staining his scarf. The hope had disappeared from his eyes.

''Beg!'' Credence bellowed at him.

Silence followed, Credence felt stupid. Of course the wizard was not going to obey, the look in his eyes had been one of disbelief that Credence would demand such a thing of him. Any moment now the wizard would show his true colors and smithe him into the ground. Mary Lou would …

''I'm sorry'' His words almost too soft to be heard startled Credence. It worked?


	2. Chapter 2

**Trigger warning! Not sexual assault but it can be triggering**

It was impossible to stop shivering by now, his clothes thoroughly soaked. The Second Salemers had been quite thorough in their task to keep him awake throughout the night, dousing him in buckets full of cold water every hour or so while screaming at him to repent. Newt knew that he should get rid of his wet clothes to prevent hypothermia but he could not make himself do it. He already felt vulnerable enough without his wand to protect himself, heal his broken ribs or to dry his clothes.

It was not the first time he had landed himself in trouble but he hoped it would not be the last time either. Things did not look good for him. He had left his case with animals with Bunty back in England at least, the mad woman would not be able to get to them there. But at the same time Newt had told Bunty not to expect him to return any time soon. MACUSA had not been informed of his arrival in America either as he went there to acquire an Appaloosa Puffskein and smuggle it back on the ship disguised as an lapdog.

No travel visa, no wand permit, no one expecting him except maybe the Puffskein breeder. But it could take weeks before the breeder would start questioning the fact that Newt never showed up, if he would bring his concerns to MACUSA at all. His business after all was not quite up to legal standards.

No it was up to him to now.

Newt could hear footsteps approaching the cellar. In response he pulled his legs up to his chest to protect his already injured ribs, covered his face with an arm and braced for another bucket. Wizards have a hardier physiology than muggles but there were limits to what a body could sustain. Just a few more hours and there would be not need for a pyre.

Newt just lowered his arm a tiny bit to peak at the figure standing in the door opening.

 _The button rolled away heading towards the gutter before his fingers managed to get a hold of it. He should have fixed the loose threads a while ago but Newt never had the time to do so. The boat had been too full of muggles to perform even the most basic of spells, it was too risky. His cabin mate seemed to be watching him every minute of the day, unnerving him to the point that he would spend most of his time on deck. There he could read his notes in peace, adding snippets where needed._

 _It was too cold to be walking around with a half open coat in the middle of the night. Newt glanced around, no one in sight. He briskly walked towards one of the alleyways and turned towards the wall. To any unsuspecting passer-by he would look like a man taking a leak. Even in New York people were not that rude to keep staring then._

'' _Reparo'' Newt hissed, shielding his wand from few with his coat while fumbling with the button. A young voice made him jump. ''What are you doing?'' Newt was just a split second too late to hide his wand back in his coat before turning around. ''What's that?'' The girl asked curiously and full of innocence, the young man behind her looked less amused at the situation putting a hand on the girl's shoulder protectively._

Newt did not move a muscle, his eyes fixed the young man that had appeared. Credence, the woman had called him yesterday. A name that fit him. Newt had believed him, trusted him even. Lured into the church under false pretences, this mistake could cost him his life if he did not find a way out soon.

''Strip''

The words echoed in the cellar, sounding hollow in the mostly empty space. But no movement came from Newt. If he was unwilling to get rid of his cold and wet clothes before, this feeling had increased even more with Credence nearby. The man had a short fuse, if yesterday was any proof of that. He did not want to lose the last layer of protection he had. Maybe if he just could …

Newt's stomach lurched when Credence took a step in his direction. This was a bad idea, why did he ever think that it was a good idea to ignore the man that had beaten him up not even twelve hours ago to the point his ribs broke for speaking too softly. But it was too late to turn back now, a mere second later Credence was next to him, taking hold of his scarf.

He did not try to untangle the scarf from Newt's neck. Instead he just started pulling on one end effectively turning the garment into a noose. In a reflex Newt's hands grabbed onto the fabric in front of his throat, pulling it away to ease the pressure on his throat. The scarf was cast aside into a corner of the cellar while Newt pressed his back into the corner on the opposite site. The strained position made it hard and painful for him to breath but instinctively he wanted to protect himself from any further violence.

But Credence was not done yet, grabbing onto his coat. Buttons were flying into every direction as it was ripped open. Newt regretted his ill-considered inaction, if he was going to survive this ordeal he had to ward of hypothermia. Without his clothes that would be an impossible task. His shirt was next, the fabric pressed painfully against his broken ribs as it was ripped over his head making him groan in agony.

He started to struggle when he felt hands on his belt. No matter how useless his trousers were in their soaked state, he did not want to lose them. Aside from the fact that his notes were in the trousers pocket. An elbow to his nose dazed him momentarily, enough time for Credence to have undone his belt and pull his trousers down over his ankles. Blood dripped down on his bare legs and into the back of his throat, making Newt nauseous.

Not a thread remained on his body when the onslaught halted, leaving Newt shivering not just from the cold. Every instinct is his body screamed at him to get out of here. It was not exciting enough to watch the wizard burn if he had already been suffocated by the smoke. Without his wet clothes, the fire would probably reach him before passing out from inhaling the fumes.

Newt had heard the stories of the witch hunters, those too young to defend themselves or those who had lost their wands unfortunate enough to fall into Scourers hands. Crying in fear, begging to be released, swearing they had nothing do to with magic before the flames reached their toes. Then screams, both from the victim in agony as in terror from the others who were standing on their own pyres waiting to be set alight. Credence took a step towards him after throwing the trousers on the pile of clothes. Fear overtook his reason, a more primal part of him taking over.

''Accio!'' his voice cracked during his scream while tiny droplets of blood flew off his lips, fingers reaching out for the non-existing wand. Credence ducked down as if a spell would fly from Newt's fingers, hitting the ground a moment later as though Newt had tried to incinerate him on the spot.

Newt had never mastered the art of wandless magic but in desperation he had tried in a last effort. But to no avail, his hand remained empty. His skills lacking, not enough concentration, his wand destroyed perhaps. He felt alone, like the soldier he had seen during the war. His legs had been blown off, crying out for his mother to save him.

A moment later Credence regained his footing, looming down over Newt. His face was contorted with anger. The sound of leather being pulled from loops in one deft motion.

Newt tried not to flinch when he closed the distance with a brisk step, belt doubled over in his hand. His stomach twisted instinctively at the sight.

It was only pain. Pain could be borne.

Without his clothes, it was hard to protect himself from the blows but he tried to do so the best he could. His arms over his face, leaning against the wall as if he could sink into it. But most of his vulnerable skin was still on display. He could hear the roar of his pulse in his ears, deafening like a Zouwu.

The sound of the belt came first, then the pain bit into Newt's back. The impact of the belt buckle he was beaten with searing across his skin, as painful and shocking as the blows to his ribs yesterday.

It came down again and again, stripes of red laid across his back. His nerves screaming at the pain as Newt strained against the corner that he could not escape.

It did not take long before the cracks of the belt were joined by wordless screams of anguish.

''For just as through the disobedience of the one man …'' He did not relent, ignoring the pleas for mercy. The buckle cut into Newt's skin, making him trash around in an attempt to escape the next blow.

''…the many were made sinners ,…'' Blood ran down his back, coating it in crimson red. How many lashes had landed on his skin? 20? 30?

''… so also through the obedience of the one man …'' The next lash landed on one of his broken ribs, a new sort of pain searing through his body. The blood from his nose was mixing with his tears.

''… the many will be made righteous'' Newt was expecting another blow but none came. Both were panting by now, one in exhaustion the other shaking in pain.

For a moment Credence seemed to consider what to do with the belt. The leather had taken on the red tinge of the blood, staining his hands and making it slippery.

He grabbed Newt's trousers lying on the ground, freeing that belt before pulling it through the loops on his own pair. As Credence let go of the wet clothes, dropping it there was no mistaking the dull thud.

Through his tears Newt could see the small notebook falling from the pockets onto the ground. Notes from months and months of research. For a split second he considered grabbing it from Credence's hand, he could not let a Muggle get a hold of such valuable information. He had to protect those creatures! Even in the dire predicament that he found himself in at the moment, his first reaction was to protect them.

But what was the use? He might be able to pry it from Credence's hands but how long would he be able to do so? Second or minutes probably. The Second Salemers would probably realize it was no ordinary diary and scrutinize it even more. Newt's only hope was that the pages would be ruined with the water.

The notebook slipped into a pocket, Credence started picking up the remaining clothes keeping a close watch on the shivering man in the corner. He exited the cellar without the customary ''Repent!'' the other Salemers had been shouting at him throughout the night.

Newt could hear the lock turn on the other side and he let go of a breath he had not realized he had been holding. Every slight movement send pangs of pain up his spine, an unwelcome distraction from the cold. Crippled without access to his magic, he realized he might not be able to get himself out of this mess this time.


End file.
